04/09/2026
BLACK BILE… a reminder to the Scots we are more than hill and glen.
There’s so much fake stuff on here it’s starting to stick in my craw. Last week I got tagged in umpteen posts by loyal followers and dutifully logged on to bolster the cause of nutritional psychiatry.
But it didn’t take me long to suss out the posts had been written by ChatGPT – not the self-proclaimed expert posting it. Intellectually lazy at best – or total pish as we say in Glasgow!
I’m one of the few remaining dinosaurs who still sits in my kitchen, airport lounge, or hotel room taking time to share insights organically. These AI programmes may be useful tools if you want to imitate others but are pretty sh*te at originality!
That’s the thing about artificial intelligence – the clue is in its definition. Brilliant at spouting out clever stuff but with zero wisdom. The predictive prose and banal writing style is a dead giveaway. A nightmare for authors with PhD’s or researchers with decades of doing the dog work.
Anyone can be an expert on here with the right software. Plus, Zuckerbot’s algorithm promotes the fake stuff instead of thought-provoking original content. Educated humans are on a hiding to nothing in this spiritually-devoid digital world.
Anyway, this week I’m sitting in a hotel room on the island of Kos – home to the father of medicine. I’m meeting a historian at the Hippocratic Foundation to trace the footsteps of the MacBeths.
These medical kindred known as the Beatons were instrumental in Scotland becoming a global powerhouse of modern medicine. When the Royal Society of Medicine was established almost all of its back catalogue of treatments and procedures came from Clann Meic-bethad… but they don’t like to admit it.
How could primitive Highlanders know more about medicine than us? Let’s just take their insights and pass them off as ours.
Those insights didn’t come from Highland healers – they came from those long before them. Although the MacBeth’s were intuitive (spiritual) healers, they were also well versed in medical knowledge gathered over millennia.
This knowledge of plant medicine travelled from Egypt to Greece and over to Ireland and eventually Scotland. The MacBeths translated the texts of Hippocrates from Greek to Gaelic and did the same with Galen too.
They also visited Persia to understand the work of Avicenna and translated Persian texts into Gaelic before other European scholars.
These so-called backwater Highlanders were no numpties. They were scholars, mystics, and physicians all rolled into one - called upon by wealthy people all across Europe to heal them in times of need.
Robert the Bruce – or de Brus as he was French – relied heavily on the MacBeths. Legend has it that mental breakdown he had in the cave – remember the spider try, try again story we all learned in school?
Aye, it was probably bollox. Apparently, he had a bad case of the black bile and Patrick MacBeth along with French astrologer and physician, Maino de Maineri prescribed specific foods to sort him out.
As a side note, I’ve always been interested in the medical history between Scotland and France. Since David I introduced feudalism to our land in 1124 we have become a proxy nation. He was raised in an English court and hell-bent on handing hereditary land in Scotland to his French henchmen.
The de Brus and de Balliols were among them. French muscle seizing Scottish land in a medieval version of a Guy Ritchie gangster movie.
Moving on… before the nationalists get their knickers in a twist (and remembering I voted YES in 2014) not that will earn me any brownie points with those still entrenched in ineffectual ideologies.
Black bile literally means melancholy. Melas (black) and chole (bile) in Greek. Our ancestors were just as depressed as we were but they didn’t take SSRIs to ease the pain!
They resorted to community prescriptions, plants, food, and spiritual healing. They ate certain foods and prayed to gods we no longer believe in.
Now, I don’t know who or what god is. I’ve spent a lifetime looking. After being kicked out of bible class for asking all the right questions I’ve travelled from India to Peru, Turkey to Tibet – and am still none the wiser.
We are all winging it down here and just need to suck it up… whilst giving a helping hand to those who can’t.
Fast approaching 60, I want to spend the rest of my time looking at stuff that may actually matter. How the Scots healed themselves before multinational corporations came to town. How our grannies handled preventative medicine… and didn’t rely on anyone else.
We’ve been r***d and ravaged for a thousand years by quislings and foreign powers in proxy wars. Now is the time to reclaim our heritage to medicine, science, and herbalism.
Tomorrow I will learn more about how the Scots improvised with herbs and oils - using intuition to translate Hippocrates’s remedies. Hazelnut oil instead of olive oil and willow bark instead of meadowsweet – the plants that gave us aspirin.
I could go on about how the French chemist Charles Frédéric Gerhard first discovered the painkiller - married to a Scots lassie whose father (President of the Royal Society in Edinburgh) bankrolled his research… but I won’t.
Enough about the Scots being totally brilliant… we’re all Jock Tamson’s bairns.
Suzanne.x